Weaving Fate
by zelda3469
Summary: Link lost the final battle, and for the past four years he has been a slave to Ghirahim and Demise. After a daring escape, the young blonde finds himself on another adventure, and the Demon Lord finds himself hunting down his escapee. Will Link complete his new found mission before he falls into Ghirahim's hands once more? T for implied themes and violence. SPANDEXVERSE!
1. Escape

**I don't own LoZ**

**Alright Sverse fans! Here is my take on SeptemberRaven's latest comic! Yes, Link finally escapes! Read on!  
**

His feet pounded the dry earth and left puffs of hazy dust behind. The little protection his feet had against the parched ground, bereft of life, had been rendered useless hours ago. The black fabric had torn and now it dangled raggedly from the blonde's ankle. Legs sore and cramping, the escapee forced himself to keep moving forward, out of the barren clearing and into the forest. If he could make it to the trees, he could hide, he could rest, he would be free.

Freedom... Something Link had so easily taken for granted when he was younger; something he now desperately sought.

"Come back to us, sky child," a voice whispered hauntingly in his mind before hissing venomously like a slimy snake. "Sky child, come back."

There was no way Link would go back; not willingly at least.

"Sky child..."

Mouth arid, the blonde panted, his chest tightening with each breath. Water. He needed water.

"Turn back now, sky child, and I shall be lenient."

As if the owner of that voice was looking him dead in the eye, Link shivered, shaking his head.

"No..." he rasped out, vocal cords strained. Clutching the hilt of a very familiar weapon in his hand, Link pushed on, adrenaline pumping through his veins. His makeshift cloak, a plain black bed sheet, fluttered behind him. The hood, too, fluttered in the breeze he was stirring up and lightly smacked the sides of his sweaty face, sticking on occasion.

The barrier of rotting, dead trees ahead continued to get closer and closer. It wouldn't be much longer until the fallen hero would find himself in the twisted shadows of the woods, and after a two day journey, the Sealed Grounds.

Skillfully hopping (more like stumbling) over a greenish, fungus covered log, the blonde grinned weakly. He was actually going to make it!

Feet landing in a patch of thirsty brown grass, Link sobbed. His joyful tears gradually rolled down the curves of his overheated cheeks as he slowed and came to a halt behind the carcass of a giant, hollow tree. He had stolen himself back from the Demon Lord who deemed him nothing more than a pathetic slave. Finally he was free!

Back arched against decaying bark, the young man of twenty sank down to the ground. The sudden burst of energy drawn from his worst fear died away, leaving a very tired, yet mirthful, Link. Catching his breath, the blonde released his sword, and in a daze, watched as it clattered to the ground with a heavy thump. Eyes wet and glossy, he looked up into the reddish sky and admired it. It had been four long, dreadful, disastrous years since he had been able to peacefully gaze at the clouds. His previous, so-called masters, always keep thick crimson curtains drawn over the large windows, keeping wandering eyes out.

As his breathing grew less labored, and his heart rate dropped, Link licked his dry, cracking lips. He needed fluids, but it didn't look like he would find any water in his current location. All the trees in the rim of the forest were either dead or dying. The blonde would have to venture deeper into the woods until he came across healthy looking vegetation.

Sighing tiredly, Link reached for the Master Sword. His fingers curled around the hilt almost timidly. He didn't feel worthy of the finely crafted blade anymore; he lost to the Demon King when everyone was depending on him, when the goddess was depending on him, when Zelda was depending on him...

"Master..."

The blonde stiffened. He never wanted to hear that word again.

"Master Link..."

The hilt of his blade flashed a bright, blinding blue while chiming softly. Link watched in awe as a familiar figure emerged from the orange tinted jewel embedded in the cool purple metal of the hilt. The figure danced gracefully in the air, raw, heavenly energy trailing behind her feet. Eyes blank, she stared at her Master. He was much thinner and paler than she had remembered. She also noted his odd wardrobe. The amount of skin the tight, midnight black fabric exposed was alarming to Fi. She knew where and who Link had been with since she last saw him. She also knew his captors, or at least one in particular, had a rather unhealthy obsession with him. It took her almost no time to conclude what had happened to Link in her long absence.

"Master, I-"

"Fi..." Link interrupted, his expression vacant, eyes nearly empty. Fi, the spirit of the Master Sword, nodded.

"Master, I apologize for my inability to-"

"No," he cut her off again, voice brittle and ready to crack, "you have nothing to apologize for." Pointed toes hovering over the ground, Fi locked eyes with the blonde and deliberately shook her head.

"Master, I am fully responsible for the hardships you endured. I failed you-"

"Stop!" the blonde blurted hoarsely, holding back shameful tears, "I failed! Not you..."

Time seemed to move at a listless pace as the sword spirit and fallen warrior gazed at one another in silence. Link never broke eye contact with Fi, despite his trembling and the tears clouding his vision. Fi, on the other hand, numbly floated in place. She knew there was almost nothing she could do at the moment to help the blonde emotionally. If only the goddess had granted her the ability to be affectionate, to express herself, perhaps she would have been of more use.

In the distance, a twig snapped, the echo of the soft noise reaching Link's pointed ears in a matter of seconds. Snapping his head in the direction of the faint noise, the blonde carefully scanned the area, half expecting to find something, or someone searching from him, determined to escort him back to the Demise's castle in chains.

"Master, I highly suggest you immediately begin traveling northeast. I calculate that staying here much longer will result in your recapture," Fi stated in a robotic tone, her large blue eyes still cast at Link. Shaking violently, Link nodded. With both hands secured around the hilt of his blade, he plunged the powerful weapon into the parched ground and pulled himself up onto his aching feet.

"Fi..." Link murmured, shuffling forward. "I have a request... Please, don't call me... Master." He choked out the last word, looking down at his feet. There were just too many painful memories associated with that specific term.

"As you wish, Link." The spirit bowed before returning to her place within the Master Sword.

After taking a calming, deep breath, the blonde forced his legs, which felt heavy and more like lead weights, to move. He desperately hoped Fi was leading him in the direction of a creek or river. He wouldn't be able to carry on much further without crisp, cool, wet water. Food he could do without for another day or so, but water... Pulling the hood of his cloak further over his head, Link steadily hobbled through the dying forest.

Up in the trees, a slim figure watched curiously as the chosen one clumsily stumbled into the thicket of lifeless trees and out of sight. He tilted his head to the side before smiling to himself. The blonde was headed straight for a camp full of his men, and not just any camp, but the largest camp of warriors he had. This was too perfect.

**Could it be?! No, it cannot be! Is Ghirahim really going to get his hands on Link this early in the game? Stay tuned.  
**

**Thank you LEva114 for editing**


	2. Determination and Boiling Tempers

**I don't own LoZ**

The small, windowless chamber that had once served as a bedroom was in ruins. Dust, stirred up from the sudden movement of the room's contents, still sat in the air, making it stuffy. Nose twitching up in irritation, the demon dug his razor sharp fingernails into what used to be a rosewood dresser. A forgotten, still lit candle, sat on the broken pieces of furniture, giving off a dim orange glow. The yellow flame flickered every few seconds and grew, the Demon Lord's fury a better fuel source than the wick sticking out of the white stick of scentless wax.

Snarling, Ghirahim carelessly threw the mass of splintered wood across the room as if it weighed no more than the bright blue diamond dangling from his ear. Meeting the wall with a loud, sonorous bang, the misshapen dresser broke apart. Wood and black, spandex clothing landed on the marble floor in a sloppy heap. The forgotten candle landed in the center of the messy pile.

The temperature in the cramped room suddenly increased, and the smell of burning wood and cloth wafted through the air. Ghirahim scowled, his dark brown eyes gleaming in the flashes of light provided by the blazing fire. To say he was furious, sick with anger even, was an understatement.

Shadows danced gracefully on the walls, mimicking the fire's movements while following its steady tempo. The tarantella like dance grew even more energetic, more dangerous as the dresser and what was left of the garments on the floor burned. Periodic crackles hummed with dark intentions, urging the black silhouettes on the walls to move at an even more winged pace. Balling his gloved hands into tight fists, Ghirahim narrowed his chocolate brown eyes, the purple highlights wrinkling slightly.

"Sky child..." he hissed, voice rumbling darkly in his throat. Barring his deadly fangs, the demon shook. Dark energy radiated from his form and merged with the swirling shadows. The fire grew again, the tips of its white hot flame teasing the ceiling. Silky white bangs falling in his face, Ghirahim held back an enraged shout. _When _he got the sky child back, he was going to beat him within an inch of his - no...

The demon would break him down all over again. _When _that brat was trapped within his clutches once more...

"He's going to wish he was dead."

* * *

The sun had set at least an hour ago, and the purple hue in the sky had vanished, leaving only the pitch black sky and bright twinkling stars. Using the lights in the sky above as a compass, Link trudged through thick, overgrown grass. Every now and then, he would stomp down on an innocent stick, hiding in the lush vegetation. Splinters dug themselves into the rough patches of skin on the balls of the blonde's feet and made their presence noted with an irritating sting. Wincing, the blonde pushed the minor annoyance to the back of his mind and continued weaving his way through the thicket of fat, plump trees. Water was still his primary focus.

Smacking his dry, chapped lips, Link briefly fantasized about the cool liquid running down his parched throat and flooding his stomach until his belly was swollen. It had been far too long since he had a belly full of anything.

"Ma- Link," Fi caught herself before emerging from the blade that barely scraped the ground with each of Link's slowing steps. "I recommend finding a suitable shelter for the night. I calculate that your chances of reaching the river basin ahead are 5% in your current condition. I also calculate a 95% chance that the Demon Lord is searching these very woods for you, and a 90% chance that you will be captured if you do not find shelter or reach the river soon."

"N-no..." Link huffed out, lungs feeling like they were on fire, "I... I can make it." Tilting his head up, the blonde gazed tiredly at the spirit hovering before him. Chest tightening up, he suddenly lost his footing and stumbled to the side. Stabbing the sharp, reliable steel of his sword into the soil, Link fell to his knees. Both of his sweaty, shaky hands held onto the hilt of the Master Sword, refusing to let go.

"How... How much further?" the blonde groaned, his voice barely audible.

"Link, I highly suggest you rest, there is only a-"

"Fi, how much further?" Link wheezed before falling into a miniature coughing fit.

The blue spirit remained silent for a moment. She couldn't tell him... She knew he would push himself onward, even if it killed him. But, she couldn't just not tell him. As his servant, it was her duty to inform him of whatever he needed or demanded to know.

"One mile if you continue in this direction," came Fi's flat response, a hint of emotion almost present in her voice. Bowing his head as if to say 'thank you', the fallen warrior pulled himself up off his knees and onto his puffy, inflamed feet. Hissing through his teeth, Link yanked his weapon from its current perch in the ground and, ever so slowly, hobbled forward. Without another word, Fi returned to her hollow shell with a high pitched chime.

* * *

Servants and lower ranked demons were in a frenzy. Tensions were high and everyone could feel the dark, powerful energy of their king crackling all around them. They feared for their lives, one wrong move, being in the wrong place at the wrong time, a simple mistake with words, no more than a mere misunderstanding resulted in the loss of a head... or several. But, more of the inhabitants of the castle found the Demon Lord's short fuse even more terrifying than their enraged king. The same rules pertaining to a minor slip up still applied when he was near, but once Ghirahim's fuse had been lit, there was sure to be a loud, violent boom not too soon after. It was best to evade the Demon Lord while he was beyond furious and avoid a rather bloody, painful end. Although, keeping out of sight could be a laborious task with Ghirahim appearing here and there, looking for something, or someone, to unleash his anger upon. And to the dismay of a weak, red-skinned bokoblin, it was cowering before the Demon Lord, begging to be spared in its language of randomly pitched shrieks and groans.

Not exactly in a chipper mood, Ghirahim stalked towards the fearful creature, his ebony rapier clutched tightly in his gloved hand. Golden piggy eyes futilely pleaded with the demon before going unnaturally wide. Crimson oozed from the fresh wound in the beast's torso; the cold, biting steel was mercilessly twisted about, agitating the injury further. Gasping and screeching, the hideous red creature latched its leathery hands onto the blade. A few other patrons whom served Ghirahim watched with horrified expressions as the demon remained quiet. It was uncharacteristic of him to not chuckle, or at least mock his victim's for their stupidity. There was only one other time anyone could remember the Demon Lord being this tumultuous, and that was when Hylia and her 'dogs' (as Ghirahim would say) sealed his Master away.

Removing his sword from its temporary sheath, the demon sneered. Watching with malcontent as the pathetic bokoblin slumped to the floor lifelessly, Ghirahim growled lowly. He still had a large appetite for bloodshed, and there were a few... unlucky candidates standing not too far behind him.

Spinning around on the ball of his foot, the demon took a few quick, agile steps, and swiped his blade horizontally. There was a turbulent whoosh, and two simultaneous thumps. A body without a head along with a head missing its body sat before him in a collecting pool of crimson.

"Idiots! IDIOTS!" Ghirahim screeched jabbing at the terrified crowd of multicolored bokoblins. They all jumped backwards in hopes of avoiding the bite of the demon's blood thirsty blade. None of the unintelligent creatures wished to face a fate similar as their recently murdered brethren.

"YOU IDIOTS COULDN'T KEEP HIM FROM SLIPPING AWAY! SUCH USELESS CREATURES!" roared the Demon Lord, his outburst striking an even greater sense of panic into each and every one of the devil like monsters before sending his rapier through their heads, coating the floors with even more unnecessary gore.

"Enough of this, diamond boy. You'll have that little brat back in your bed soon enough," Azazel mocked, strolling down the long, blood covered hallway. His long, teal colored hair nearly brushed the blood covered floor as he walked. "And besides, Demise doesn't need all of his forces - even if they are complete idiots - dead."

"Watch it delivery scum; that is, if you wish to have a roof over that pathetic head of yours," Ghirahim hissed.

"Apologies _m'lord_," Azazel smirked, bringing himself to a halt, "but our great king has just requested that all of his... remaining hordes are sent after that human plaything of yours, and I don't think Demise would be terribly pleased with this display of carnage, especially when these... moronic creatures were to be the ones hunting down that precious sky child."

"Shut up, if you know what's good for you!" Anger was steadily boiling within the Demon Lord once more.

"What, I only came to bring you good news. After all, troops have already been sent after the sky brat. It shouldn't take too long before he's delivered to your quarters in a fashionable pair of irons." Azazel brushed his bangs out of his face and chuckled wickedly. Ghirahim scowled before spinning around and stomping down the hall.

"What, are you just going to go off pout like the little diamond-loving baby you are?"

The blue-haired demon ducked as a sword, aimed for his head, pierced the air. Cat like eyes closing, he gripped his sides and cackled. Ghirahim didn't bother to look back as he stormed down the halls and down to the main floor of the castle.

* * *

Link groaned as he crawled out into a clearing. Arms giving out, he landed on his stomach with a thud. His body was sore, and his lungs still burned as if there was a fire smoldering inside of him.

Tilting his head up, the blonde cracked a small, relieved smile. He had done it; he had reached the river basin! He could finally rest and-

Wait, there were tents... Why were there tents?

Cautiously, the blonde glanced from side-to-side before pushing himself up onto his knees. Face composed of total shock, he stared at the silhouettes weaving their way around the medium-sized camp before him.

"No..." Link mumbled. He had come too far... there was no way he had just stumbled into a demon camp, right? He couldn't have possibly... Fate wasn't that cruel, was it?

Link continued to gaze at the camp. His heart sank like a heavy weight in water. His mind shouted and screamed at him, urging him to flee, but the blonde was exhausted. He barely had the strength to crawl back into the forest, which was only a few feet behind him. His only choice was to wait for his imminent recapture and hope he wasn't recognized by anyone important... He would just be killed then, and dying was more preferable than being sent back to the castle.

With a defeated sigh, Link pulled the sheet clasped loosely around his neck off. He quickly wrapped it around his body to keep warm. If he was about to be taken prisoner again, he thought that he at least deserved to wait in comfort.

"Hero," a voice whispered eerily, startling the blonde. "You've returned to us."

Link held his breath, expecting something to tackle him from behind and drag him towards his doom. He clutched the hilt of the Master Sword tightly in his hand. Although he was weak, he refused to go down without a fight.

"Relax, you're in safe hands now." A pair of warm, caring arms draped over the blonde's shoulders. Link tensed before swallowing the lump in his throat. "Relax." The voice crooned soothingly. Readying his sword, Link jerked forward and out of the stranger's grip. He gasped, his left wrist seized the moment he pulled away. The strange figure behind him squeezed, forcing him to release his weapon.

"There is no need to attack. I am a friend, not a foe."

Shaking his head, Link choked out a sob. He was going back to the castle... He was going back to _them_.

"Everything will be alright, just relax."

"No!" croaked the blonde. "I won't go back! I won't go back!" All those tears he had been holding back finally spilled passed his eyes and streamed down his face.

"Link..." the tone in the figure's voice darkened. "I promise you aren't going back."

"Just kill me! Don't take me back!" This thing had to be playing games with him... That's how all demons were. Link knew it was toying with his mind.

Sighing, the strange figure spoke again, wrapping his hand tightly around Link's arm. "I really hate to do this..." He jammed his thumb into the other man's arm.

"No you don't! You're just-" Wet blue eyes abruptly widened before slipping closed. The stranger sighed once more and pulled the unconscious warrior into his arms. He examined the fresh bruise on the blonde's arm using the moon's dim light. At least he could get the hero to his fellow soldiers without a struggle.

"Oh Link... If only you remembered me..." The figure looked up at the stars, his azure eyes dull and sad.

"It's me... Pipit... don't you remember?"

**Thank you LEva114 for editing**


	3. Amiss

**Okay, so I know this has taken me a while to get out, but... I've been really busy lately. *sigh* All these wonderful (hard as fuck) solos don't learn themselves... Heh. I'm also getting a better idea of where the story is going. I really can't wait for the end! I actually have two different endings in mind. One will kick you in the feels while the other... Well, they both might kick you on the feels.**

**Enjoy part three!**

* * *

_"Sky child…" _

_He didn't want to listen - he just wanted to get away, escape the darkness._

_"Sky child..."_

_He pushed himself back into the ice cold wall, willing himself to become a part of the crumbling stone._

_"Sky child..." _

_He clamped his hands over his ears._

_"Sky child..."_

_He could still hear it, that calm, yet deadly whisper._

_"Sky child... You can't hide from us... We will find you."_

_"Shut up!" he shouted, his voice still barely more audible than a whisper._

_"Sky child…"_

* * *

"We can't move yet. Link needs to recover. He looks like he's been to Hell and back, for goddess sake!" Pipit stomped his foot while crossing his arms over his chest. "Plus, he deserves time to rest. Could you even begin imagine what he's been through?"

There was a tense moment of silence as Sheik, Pipit's right hand man, shuffled across the tent, preparing to leave.

"Pipit, I know you want what's best for your friend, but we can't risk staying here much longer. Demon armies are no doubt searching for the hero, and giving the lad's condition... I'd say that at least three of four aren't even an hour's journey away."

"But Sheik, he can't travel. I mean... just look at him. It's a miracle that he made it this far." The knight garbed in yellow set his eyes on the sleeping hero, who seemed to be teetering on the cusp between life and death. "It's a miracle that he's managed to survive the past four years..." Pipit sighed heavily as he knelt over Link's relatively still body.

It was astonishing to think Link, the outgoing knight who would throw himself head first into danger on a whim, even if it only meant saving one life, was in such a horrible state. His once strong frame had been beaten down and was now weak. His skin, once so tan from the rays of the sun, was even more pale than aging stone. That happy expression he always wore had morphed into one of guilt and remorse.

He was so different... He had changed so much...

Brushing a few strands of almond colored strands behind his ear, Pipit looked up at the leader of the Sheikah tribe. His eyes glistened with worry, and his heart was heavy with guilt. They should have been searching for Link... They shouldn't have assumed he was gone. Everyone knew Link would have never given up so easily. The young man had always been so determined and stubborn.

"You know..." Sheik started, "The only way he will survive is if we leave now. We can get him to Kakariko in three days. The demons have no knowledge of its existence, and the hero can recover properly there."

He hated to admit it, but Sheik was right. Kakariko was the safest place for Link to hide... That's where the majority of the remaining Skyloftians had settled since their home had fallen from the sky in a sea of flames.

Shivering, Pipit recalled the horrid memories of the past. He had lost so much the day Skyloft fell. Fires blazed wildly, consuming everything in their path like a pack of hungry wolves. Too many people had died that day... Those who survived had lost hope.

But, hope was alive once again. The legendary hero still lived and was in their care.

"You... You're right, Sheik... Tell everyone to get ready... We leave before dawn."

* * *

Sinking back into his Master's muscular body, Ghirahim exhaled through his nose. He was still so angry, livid with frustration. His pet had run away with the intentions of never coming back.

Was the Demon Lord just that bad of a caretaker?

No... It couldn't have been. Ghirahim kept the child clothed, he fed him (sparingly), and even gave him a room of his own to sleep in. Sure, Ghirahim had taken advantage of the boy's body, but it was just a small fee to pay to live in comfort. And then there were the cruel and brutal punishments whenever he chose to disobey his superiors. All Link had to do was behave, and there would have been no pain.

"I will give him credit, Ghirahim. He waited for the precise moment, when he had gained our trust," Demise mused as he rubbed his calloused hands up and down the Demon Lord's arms. "His punishment will be severe indeed."

Ghirahim said nothing as he allowed himself to relax in the Demon King's arms. The thought of the sky brat screaming in agony was beyond appetizing at the moment. He licked his lips at the thought, picturing his runaway pet at his feet, begging for it all just to end. Just imagining the taste of the boy's sweet blood popping in his mouth made his mouth water.

"Master, I need him... I need to hear him scream," the demon whined, rolling his head back onto Demise's toned chest.

"I know, Ghirahim. And you will soon enough," Demise hummed before planting a gentle kiss on the lord's neck. Shutting his eyes, Ghirahim sighed, his rage dwindling into almost nothing. He absolutely loved the attention his Master gave him, and it always soothed him.

Both demons remained silent for a few minutes, just enjoying the silence along with the heat radiating from each others' bodies.

"Your Highness!"

Ghirahim growled before opening his dark eyes. He hated that voice, but he hated the owner of that voice even more. If only he could get away with ripping off that demon's blue covered head...

"Ah, Azazel, have you made up your mind yet?" Demise inquired politely, resting his chin on Ghirahim's head.

"Yes, Your Majesty, I have." Azazel bowed, his voice full of confidence. "I accept your offer, and I am more than proud to serve as your general."

Eyebrows twitching, the Demon Lord scowled. It was obvious that Ghirahim didn't trust the other demon, or see him worthy as a leader. Azazel was a coward, and the Demon King knew it... He had to...

Who was the one that sweat and bled for the king on a daily basis? Who was the one that stuck by his side and fought until the end? Who was the one to bring him back?

Not Azazel.

Who fled at the first hint of war? Who disappeared for centuries and dared not return until the Demon King ruled over the Surface once more?

Not Ghirahim.

"Congratulations..." the lord hissed through bared teeth.

* * *

A wave of nausea washed over Link after he forced his consciousness to claw its way out of a tormenting nightmare and into reality. Groaning tiredly, he turned on his side and snuggled further into the blanket wrapped around his body. He was somewhat comfortable, and just wanted to go back to sleep. Perhaps he could force himself to dream of something nice, although the constant squeaking and rocking wasn't going to help him get back-

Wait... a blanket? ... Squeaking and rocking?

Eyes snapping wide open, the blonde bolted upright with a gasp. Frantically, he twisted his head from side to side, searching for an explanation, only to find he that he was alone. A thin white canvas seemed to trap him from outside world, leaving him secluded in the relatively small space.

_I'm going back... I... I'm going back..._

Curling up into a small, tight ball, Link started to sob. He didn't want to go back; he would have done anything if it meant not going back.

Why were the gods so cruel?

Were they punishing him, forcing him to suffer for his failure?

Why was he the chosen one anyway? He was only sixteen, a boy, when he was sent off on his mission. Why send a child to do a hero's work?

"Link? Are you awake?" a voice asked hesitantly.

He refused to respond and continued lamenting the fact he had been caught.

"Link?"

This time, the distraught blonde lifted his head and gazed in the direction of that voice, which was becoming even more familiar by the second. Eyebrows shooting up into stunned arches, Link gawked in disbelief.

"I... I know you've been through a lot, and... I'm here for you. I want to help you, like old times." Pipit cracked a small smile after pushing his head through the slit of the cream colored fabric.

"I... I don't understand... You... you're supposed to be... dead..." Link stammered out in a dry, cracked voice.

Tilting his head to the side in question, Pipit crawled through the slight opening his head had made in the fabric. The entire structure both men were riding in briefly shifted to one side as Pipit settled next to Link.

"Link, I can assure you that I'm not dead. I-"

"This is all just a trick!" he squeaked, scooting away from his former classmate like a defenseless, frightened animal. "You're just playing with me, demon!"

"Link, please listen to reason! I am-"

"No, you aren't He's dead! I saw him die! I saw it!" He was in an all out tantrum, shouting as loud as he could with his hands over his ears. Several times, Pipit considered shouting back at the broken hero, but he decided against it. Yelling would most likely make Link even more upset than he already was.

"How can I prove that I'm the real Pipit and not a demon?" he said calmly, reaching out to place a hand on Link's shoulder. Link twitched away from the gentle touch as if his was expecting pain.

"I-I want ma-my ss-ss-sword." he stuttered, flinching as a second hand rested on his aching shoulder


End file.
